Like Father, Like Son
by Tastes-Like-Fry
Summary: James Harry, Harry James, James Sirius. What do they have in common? A story of three young Potters through the ages, with thier mothers - how do they put up with their sons miscievious ways? Not to mention their mischievious husbands!


**Like Father, Like Son**

'James Harry Potter – No!'

Eleanor Potter barely caught her nine month son by the back of his pants to prevent him from falling off her lap head first to the ground and heaved him back up onto her knees again in frustration.

James gave a grunt of frustration and tried to make another flying leap, his intentions were immediately quashed when his mother locked her arms around him.

'_Behave!_' she scolded, delivering a sharp (but gentle) smack to his bottom. 'Don't chase the cat!' She prodded him with her finger. '_No_, James, stay put.'

Ignoring the attempt at discipline, James whined and squirmed, his aim; to get to the floor. His whines turned to high-pitched shrieks of ill-content.

Not wanting a screaming James on her hands, Eleanor unwillingly gave in, lowering him to the floor.

Shrieks of complaint turned into shrieks of delight, and James, wobbly on all fours, made to crawl forward at full speed, and found himself going nowhere; his mother held him by the small of his back.

James flattened to floor and screamed in annoyance at his mother, in full tantrum mode – but he didn't have to for very long as he felt her grip loosen and he wrenched out of her grasp.

'James, _no!_'

Giggling manically, James uncoordinatedly crawled across the polished wooden floor with surprising speed. However he was not fast enough – his target, poor Mishca, had seen him coming and had frantically darted away from him, leaping up to higher ground on the bookcase.

James cackled and made for the bookcase, but before he could steady himself on his feet (holding onto the first shelf for balance) his mother scooped him up.

'Naughty boy!' She scolded, prodding him again. 'We don't chase Mischa – James, No!' She pulled him away from the bookcase as he was reaching for the frightened animal perched on the top shelf. 'Harold!' She called over James' noises of complaint as she walked outside where her husband was working on his summer project; an in-ground pool.

'What?' He called from the hole in the ground.

'_Your_ son is in requirement of entertainment.'

'_My_ son?' Harold Potter emerged from the pool, dusting himself off.

'Yes, _your_ son. Who is developing this mischievous streak in his personality that he certainly doesn't get from me.'

James, upon hearing his father, tilted himself upside down to see him, his toothy grin plastered on his face, complimenting his mother's deductions.

'I see.' Harold said, planting a kiss on the forehead of his upside-down son. 'I don't suppose the cat is in the mood for a little chase-y?'

Harold immediately regretted mentioning 'the cat' for the look on Eleanor face would have frozen the Indian Ocean. However he was saved when James screwed up his face in an impersonation of his mother; pointed his finger at his father and loudly shouted. 'No!'

Eleanor looked at her son in shock. (Harold had to cover his mouth to prevent bursting out into laughter.) And James suddenly felt very much in the spotlight and looked up at his mother in worry that she was going to be very cross.

Suddenly Eleanor grinned, the same grin that James had inherited, and then laughed. 'Your first word – oh dear, Harold, no one wins the 'mum/dad' first word bet – '

'No!' James shrieked again, delighted at his mother's approval, clapping to himself.

'Cheeky scoundrel.' Eleanor said fondly, blowing raspberries on his cheek.

Laughing, Harold enclosed his wife and his son (who was still shrieking 'No!' at the top of his voice) in his arms and the family of Potter stood in the middle of Godric's Hollow on a warm summers evening in a warm embrace.

'Harry James Potter!'

Lily Potter seized her small boy who had nearly face-planted into the footpath and pulled him back into his pusher, this time fastening him in tightly, grumbling at the small boy who would not stay put.

Harry whinged and wriggled, working against the straps, sliding under them and consequently becoming stuck, his feet just touching the ground, just enough to wriggle the pusher across the floor.

'How on earth did you mange to do that?!' Lily sighed, her hands on her hips before she bent down and unstrapped the lap belt from under his chin. Harry made another attempt to escape, his mother scooping him up and scolding him gently. 'No, Harry, stay put.'

Ignoring his mother's attempts at discipline, Harry whined and squirmed, his aim; to get to the floor. His whines turned to high-pitched shrieks of ill-content.

Not wanting a screaming Harry on her hands, Lily sat him back in his pusher and made to re-buckle him.

Seizing the moment, Harry launched himself forward to the ground on all fours, and made to crawl forward at full speed, and found himself staring at his mother's legs that had come from nowhere to block him. 'Harry, _no!_'

He tried to go around her batting her hands away, screaming as he did so.

'Harry, hush.' Lily said embarrassed, wary of the people staring. Her moment of distraction cost her, and Harry darted through her open legs, cackling in delight as he made for his target.

Suddenly he found himself airbourne – then sat on his mother's hip (her free hand on the other hip) and her embarrassed and cross quiet voice in his ear. 'Naughty boy! You do not go running off like that, I don't care how much you want to touch the water in the fountain, I mean _no_ when I say _no_, Harry.'

'There you are!' James came at his wife, beaming, but he paused when he saw her expression. 'What's wrong?'

'_Your_ son.'

'_My_ son? James blinked at her in bewilderment.

'Yes,' Lily said, ruffled, '_Your_ son. Who is developing this mischievous streak in his personality that he certainly doesn't get from me.'

Harry, upon hearing his father, shrieked in delight and tried to leap out of his mother's arms, to get to him. Lily was quite glad to pass the squirming child over to James before her hands resumed their place on her hips.

Laughing, James took his grinning, overenthusiastic son into a hug. 'You need some entertainment? Lily, shall we go for a paddle in the fountain?'

James immediately regretted mentioning the fountain, for the look on Lily's face would have frozen the Pacific Ocean. However he was saved when Harry glared in an impersonation of his mother and placed his tiny hands on his hips and scolded his father. 'No!'

Lily looked at her son in shock. (James had to cover his mouth to prevent bursting out into laughter.) And Harry suddenly felt very much in the spotlight and looked up at his mother in worry that she was going to be very cross.

Suddenly Lily grinned, the same grin that Harry had inherited, and then laughed. 'Your first word – oh dear, James. Sirius won't be too pleased he hasn't learnt any words he's been trying to teach him, will he?'

'No!' Harry shouted again, delighted at his mother's approval, waving his arms in the air, nearly knocking his father's glasses off.

'Cheeky scoundrel.' Lily said fondly, blowing raspberries on his tummy.

Laughing, James enclosed his wife and his son (who was still shouting 'No!' at the top of his voice) in his arms and the family of Potter stood in the middle of the Ministry of Magic, in the middle of a magical moment.

'James Sirius Potter!'

Ginny Potter had to practically lunge to catch her flying son who had taken a dive from the top of cot to which he had originally climber. She provided him the use of her stomach as a landing pad. She barely had time to recover before James was trying to crawl off her to escape.

Ginny's arms were strong from many a Quidditch training, and locked James in an inescapable grip. James wailed, as his mother rose with him and tried to place him back in the port-a-cot. James also had a steely grip, refusing to be put down, his wailings turning into the screams of a tantrum.

'You are unbelievable.' Ginny scolded, giving up on putting him down, making James' cries ebb slightly. 'Look at me.' Cupping her sons face in her hand, forcing his brown eyes to meet her own. 'No, James.' she said firmly, as his cries were subdued to whimpers. 'Stay put.'

She made to place him back in the cot – but James grabbed the edge and kicked Ginny's hand away. One-handed, Ginny was forced to lower her son to the ground to prevent dropping him.

'James, _no!_'

James, to escape his mother's fast hands, crawled into the dusty space below the port-a-cot. Frustrated, Lily knelt on the ground, spying her son, just out of reach, beneath the cot.

'Do I have to get your father?'

'What's going on?' Harry stood, blinking to allow his eyes to get used the darkness of the room. 'We need a fourth player, Gin.' He said, frowning as he watched her get to her feet. 'What's…?'

'_Your_ son is refusing to go to bed.'

'_My_ son?'

'Yes,' Ginny said, cupping her husband's face so they were eye-to-eye. '_Your_ son. Who has inherited this mischievous streak in his personality that he certainly doesn't get from me.'

James, upon hearing his father, poked his head out from his hiding place, his wide grin splitting his dusty face and made for him, making a wide berth around his mother should she try and put him to bed again.

Sighing in amusement at his son's antics, Harry picked him up and kissed his son on the cheek. 'Maybe you're not tired enough, should we let him up for another hour? It's only nine o'clock.'

Harry immediately regretted his suggestion, for the look on Ginny's face would have frozen the Atlantic Ocean. However he was saved when James seized his face with his tiny hands so they were eye-to-eye and firmly said to his father. 'No!'

Ginny looked at her son in shock. (Harry had to cover his mouth to prevent bursting out into laughter.) And James suddenly felt very much in the spotlight and looked up at his mother in worry that she was going to be very cross.

Suddenly Ginny grinned, the same grin that James had inherited, and then laughed. 'Your first word – oh dear, Harry. Mum'll have a fit, this was not what she was expecting…'

'No!' James sung again, delighted at his mother's approval, bouncing up and down in his father's arms, Harry having to tighten his grip to prevent his bouncing son from falling.

'Cheeky scoundrel.' Ginny said fondly, blowing raspberries on his toes.

Laughing, Harry enclosed his wife and his son (who was still singing 'No!' at the top of his voice) in his arms and the family of Potter stood in the spare room at the Weasley's house, finding a little more spare time before bed.

**A/N:** Random fluffyness, hope I was consistent through all three accounts . Inspiration comes from the fact that my first word was 'No!' because my mother would be continuously telling me off. Lolz.

'Harold' was not a random choice. Harold – James – Harry – James… see the pattern? JKR likes patterns, she would approve ;) Seeing as she owns all characters


End file.
